


Scooby Doo, Where Are You?

by Spikedluv



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Appearance by Isaac Lahey, Appearance by Jackson Whittemore, Appearance by Lydia Martin, Appearance by Scott McCall, Appearance by Vernon Boyd, Implication of Scott/Isaac, M/M, Mention of Lydia/Jackson, Prompt: Scooby-Wolf, Sterek Week 2018 on Tumblr, You can pry Erica/Boyd out of my cold dead hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 12:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16408790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spikedluv/pseuds/Spikedluv
Summary: A ‘pack movie night’ in the life of Stiles and Derek.





	Scooby Doo, Where Are You?

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place some indeterminate time after a canon-divergent season two during their junior year. Jackson is still around, there was no alpha pack, and Boyd and Erica are still alive.
> 
> Written for [Sterek Week 2018 on Tumblr](http://sterekweek-2018.tumblr.com) for day one’s prompt of _Scooby-Wolf_.
> 
> Written: October 25, 2018

They had just finished watching Scooby Doo (the 2002 movie, not one of the animated cartoons) (Stiles’ choice for that week’s movie night) and Stiles was re-imagining their pack as the Scooby Gang when Derek kicked him in the ankle.

“Ow! What?” Stiles gave Derek a wounded look.

“What are you thinking so hard about?”

Stiles explained to where his thoughts had wandered. “I mean, obviously Lydia would be Daphne.”

Lydia raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Stiles raised his hands in supplication. “I know you’re more than your beauty, but there can only be one Velma.”

“And you think that would be you?” Jackson said with a derisive snort.

“Well, yeah. Besides, Jackson probably thinks he should be Fred, so that works out perfectly since, you know, you two are back together.”

Thankfully it had been long enough (and Stiles had moved on) that it didn’t hurt anymore to say that.

“Who would Derek be?” Isaac said.

“Scooby Doo, naturally.” Stiles grinned at Derek.

Derek bared his teeth.

“A less easy-going Scooby Doo,” Stiles allowed.

“I’m not Scooby Doo,” Derek said. “I’m the guy who shakes his fist and says, ‘Get off of my lawn!’”

“I think you mean, ‘And I would’ve gotten away with it, if it weren’t for you meddling kids!’” Stiles said.

“No, I meant, ‘get off of my lawn’.”

“Rude,” Stiles said. “Then who’ll be Scooby Doo?”

“Scott,” Derek said. “Which makes you Shaggy.”

Stiles squawked in protest, but things had spiraled out of his control. The only spot left was Daphne, and Scott gave it to Isaac.

Stiles rolled his eyes, because of course. “I think Erica would argue.”

“Erica’s not here,” Scott said.

Erica had a family obligation that made her miss movie night. When she heard the title of the movie Stiles had chosen, she said she might be getting the better end of the deal. “Fair enough,” Stiles said, still stinging from her dismissal of his good taste in movies.

(To be honest, it wasn’t that he thought the movie was that great, but he was on a Sarah Michelle Gellar kick after rewatching all seven seasons of ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’. He’d just finished watching ‘Ringer’ on Netflix and was devastated that it hadn’t been renewed for a second season.)

“What about Boyd?” Isaac said.

Everyone was taken, including the villain, except for . . . “The Mystery Machine!” Stiles said. Everyone stared at him. “What? If we can anthropomorphize a dog, we can do the same for the van. Boyd is built, hence machine, and he _is_ a mystery.”

Boyd shrugged, which Stiles took as agreement. He held out his fist for a bump, but Boyd just stared at him. Stiles gently bumped Boyd’s shoulder and quickly withdrew his fist before Boyd could remove his hand at the wrist.

Everyone worked together to clean up the popcorn bowls, candy wrappers and empty soda cans, and took off. Except for Stiles, who had started hanging around Derek’s loft (which was hobo chic, but still a million times better than living in the train depot or what remained of the Hale house) if it wasn’t a school or family dinner night.

It had begun after the thing with Gerard because Stiles didn’t want to be home alone on the nights his dad worked late. And sometimes he wanted to avoid his dad because he still felt guilty about the lies and getting him fired. Now it was something altogether different.

Nothing physical had happened between Derek and Stiles. Yet. And not because Stiles wasn’t ready. He was a teenager (seventeen-years old now, Derek!), so he was almost always ready. (Scott’s ‘gross-face’ didn’t lie.) Derek wasn’t ready. Which Stiles totally understood. Even if it was frustrating. Sexually speaking.

But Stiles didn’t want to pressure Derek (and remind him of Kate), and he didn’t want Derek to think that _he_ was like Kate, so they were stuck in limbo (aka, sexual frustration purgatory) until Stiles turned eighteen. Until then they held hands, cuddled on the couch, and shared longing looks. Derek even refused to kiss Stiles because he thought it might lead them down the slippery slope to the point of no return. He wasn’t wrong.

One time Stiles had said, “You do _want_ to have sex, right? I mean, eventually with me, but also in general? I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t, because obviously you’ve had some bad experiences, but I wanted to make sure we’re on the same page. Sexually speaking.”

Derek had been chopping vegetables for movie night and he didn’t turn away from the counter when he spoke. “Yes, Stiles, I want to have sex with you. When you’re eighteen.”

Stiles was so enamored by the pink tips of Derek’s ears that he didn’t even tease him about the wait. “Okay, good. I mean, me too. With you. Naturally.”

Scott had wrinkled his nose when he got there and said, “It smells like sex in here.”

“Well that’s totally unfair,” Stiles said. “Since nobody here is getting any.”

Tonight Derek nudged Stiles. “You should go before you fall asleep.”

“Can’t I stay?” Stiles whined. (He was understanding, not a saint.)

“I don’t think your dad would appreciate that.”

“You’re right.” Stiles sat up. “Besides, how could I jerk off thinking about you if I stay?”

Derek’s eyes glazed over.

“Ruh roh,” Stiles said. “Did I say that out loud?”

“I hate you.”

“Lies!” Stiles gave Derek a kiss on the cheek and jumped to his feet. He grabbed his jacket and the movie to drop in the Redbox on the way home. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’m leaving.”

“And yet you’re still here.”

“Don’t front, Derek. I know you’re gonna miss me.”

“But how could I jerk off thinking about you if you don’t leave?”

Stiles’ jaw dropped. “You didn’t.”

Derek smirked.

“I hate you.”

“Lies,” Derek said softly.

“Lies,” Stiles agreed. He gave Derek one more quick kiss and hurried out the door before he could change his mind. Stiles stood in the hallway outside the closed door and called out, “Scooby-Dooby-Doo!”

There was no sound from inside the loft, but Stiles imagined Derek rolling his eyes and biting back a smile. “I know you’re laughing on the inside, Derek!”

“Very deep inside,” Derek intoned.

“Lies,” Stiles said. Grinning to himself Stiles practically skipped down the stairs. Tonight he’d be thinking of Derek thinking of him while he did the deed, and he couldn’t wait.

The End


End file.
